


nadir's gambit

by ecorone



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Crack, Crack, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, set in early s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecorone/pseuds/ecorone
Summary: They’ll never know which team kissed first. It doesn’t matter. The silly game is gone now, burned up.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	nadir's gambit

“I do not own a purple cardigan.” Hearing his own voice takes Abed aback. The acoustics are different in Annie’s corner of the study room. But he’s stuck there, since he and Troy had failed to reclaim their rightful seats from the imposters.

“I got cold,” Annie whines, forgetting her Abed impression. “You know I have poor circulation.”

“Also, Troy’s hair is not blue.”

“It’s hard to find short wigs!” Annie huffs at the perceived criticism.

Troy finger-drums on Britta’s area of the table, bored. “Why, man?”

Britta’s surprisingly masculine voice goes: “We caught you filming your latest skit. You were playing us—I mean, playing Annie and Britta. So we figured, fair’s fair.”

Abed pauses to consider the damage to their images. Annie’s hair is pulled back into a ponytail, an approximation of short hair if viewed from the front. She’s layered the offending cardigan over the plaid button-down and graphic print shirt that match Abed’s, paired with her cigarettiest of cigarette jeans. Britta’s scruffy blue wig aside, she’s evidently splurged on a letterman jacket (in concordance with Troy’s letterman jacket comeback) and sneakers. Both Annie and Britta have stubbled their faces to be more stubbly than Abed’s and Troy’s put together.

These notes committed to memory, he explains, “We weren’t playing you. We were reenacting a scene from _Legally Blonde_ (2001) but with a film noir twist.”

“He even said the parentheses,” Annie whispers.

Troy adds: “Yeah, the scene where Elle Woods and Vivian Kensington have a heart to heart and realize Warren sucks. I was Vivian and Abed was Elle.”

Shirley claps her hands in delight. “You like _Legally Blonde?”_

“One of my favorites,” Abed nods.

Troy perks up. He gestures at Britta and Annie with the eraser end of his mechanical pencil. “You know, if you swap their real hair colors…”

Abed tilts his head all the way to the right, then all the way to the left, where it stays. “I see what you mean.”

“Put your neck straight, Abed. Put”—Troy is physically pushing Abed’s head back to a normal angle when Jeff saunters in, late with coffee in hand.

“Guess that makes me Warner Huntington the Third”—Jeff draping himself into his seat, loosing a tasteful waft of Creed Aventus eau de cologne—“the loser wannabe lawyer.” He whips off his sunglasses. “What? I have an ear for _Legally Blonde_ discourse. One of my favorites. I fully suspend my disbelief at the courtroom scenes.”

Napping fast at the table, Pierce gargles out: “Gay.”

“What was that?” Jeff scoffs.

“He’s been saying that in his sleep lately,” Troy explains. “I try not to imagine why.”

Pierce snuffles a couple more “gay”s, then returns to peaceful slumber.

It’s only then that Jeff notices the presence of extraneous Troys and Abeds. “Whoah. Maybe Pierce was onto something. I’m sensing twice the homoeroticism at this table.”

Shirley genuflects, shaken. “I’m not Catholic but you boys”—indicating the whole table—“have driven me to this.”

Annie pumps a fist in the air.

Britta hoots, “Yeeeah boyeee. Hear that? We the boys too. Y’all boutta be kicked off ya thrones.”

Pierce sits bolt upright and goggles at Britta with sober eyes. “You can’t talk like that. It’s racist.”

“Go back to sleep, Pierce,” Jeff says. 

Pierce complies, instantly snoring.

“Truly, I hate how right Pierce is today.” Troy shakes his head. “Britta, you’ve offended me. Because you’re _bad._ If you’re gonna do an impression of me, do it right.”

Annie’s preening at her very un-Abed hair.

Troy continues: “And you”—Annie’s smile falls—“why does your Abed sound like C-3PO? Shit’s wack.”

 _“Shit’s wack,”_ Britta-Troy shoots back. 

Abed brightens. “Is this a copying game now?”

Annie’s Troy elbows her Abed to jump in. _“Is this a copying game now?”_

“Boo,” Jeff groans into the palm of his hand. “We already did this episode.”

His complaint goes ignored. The study room descends into madness as the double Troy-Abeds lose themselves. Abed starts off polite but quickly gets a taste for blood. Troy fires out syllables even Annie’s never heard of before.

“I’m the gayest sunflower in the meadow!” 

_“I’m the gayest sunflower in the meadow!”_

(At this point, Shirley runs out decrying that she didn’t pray enough to prevent this day.)

“My favorite character from _Friends_ is Ross Geller!” 

_“My favorite character from_ Friends _is Ross Geller!”_

Jeff whistles low. “Mutually assured destruction.” If not for the sustained cringe ruining his appetite, he’d be munching on popcorn right now.

When the dust clears, we see:

Both teams are kneeling on the table. Abed is gripping Troy by the chest of his letterman jacket. Annie and Britta mirror them, lockstep. Britta’s wig is askew, and Annie’s ponytailed hair is escaping. There’s an unspoken threat in the air.

Abed says quietly, “Jeff, you’d better get out of here.”

“Why?” Jeff’s faux obliviousness is heartfelt.

“This about to get nuclear-level gay,” Troy warns, a muscle in his jaw fluttering.

Jeff scoots his chair away from Troy and Abed until he’s right by Annie and Britta. Batting his eyelashes up at them with: “Hi. I’m an ally.”

“Go home, Jeff,” Britta snaps, “and take Pierce with you.”

“Yessir.” Jeff stands up and goes over to Pierce, who’d slept through all the previous skirmishes. He tells him: “Milk. Eggs. Vienna sausages. Boobs. Alka-Seltzer. Band-aids. Boobs. Mayonnaise. Boobs.”

At the third and final “boobs”, Pierce snort-chuffs awake. “Huh? Eh? What year is it? Who won the Battle of Culloden?”

“At ease, soldier.” Jeff smiles and leads him out.

Time for decisive action. Time for victory.

Troy and Abed move closer in increments. Slow. Slow. Each inch they eke, is matched by their imposters on the other half of the table.

 _You sure about this?_ Troy mouths.

Abed nods gravely; this bumps their noses together. It’s quiet now. He can enjoy the way Troy’s breathing chest moves Abed’s hands minutely out, in. The athlete’s heartbeat that matches his own.

Meanwhile, Annie’s grip could permanently wrinkle Britta’s jacket. Britta is watching her, but Annie is turned to her foes, frozen in horror. What happens next could destroy them all. 

“Shh, shh.” Britta takes Annie’s face in her hands. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

Annie’s doe eyes track Britta’s. Taking in her ratty blue wig. The stippling of makeup-stubble on her chin. She breathes, overcome. “Britta…”

They’ll never know which team kissed first. It doesn’t matter. The silly game is gone now, burned up. Books slide around. Chairs get knocked over. The window blinds rattle. 

When it’s done, Annie and Britta wordlessly climb down and return to their seats. Annie brushes invisible dirt off her knees but does nothing to address Britta’s rose-pink lipstick on her mouth. Britta lays her wig on the table and ruffles loose her blonde locks. Abed and Troy are already seated, waiting.

“Three minutes thirty-seven seconds,” Abed announces, snapping his phone shut. “That’s how long you continued making out after Troy and I stopped.”

“What a time to be alive,” Troy sighs.

Abed folds his hands together upon the table. “Annbed. Brittroy. Anything you’d like to admit?”

Annie’s trembling with glee when she cries, “Ha! We got ya! Did you really think we’d let you witness our first kiss?”

Abed and Troy exchange looks.

Britta slaps the table hard like Jeff, startling them to attention. “Annie and I saw this whole storm from afar. We knew you bastards would egg us to this point. So we… got to practicing.” 

Under the table, Annie’s been itsy-bitsy-spidering her hand over to Britta’s knee. When Britta grabs her spider-hand and squeezes, Annie giggles, ruining her serious line: “The Edison-Perry gambit.”

Troy chuckles darkly. Abed eyes him like a nervous, lovestruck horse before he picks up chuckling, too. They laugh in unison, the chilling picture of two Joker victims.

“Check out these wackos,” Britta grumbles to Annie.

Annie’s spider-hand starts trembling again. Like a timer going off, Abed’s jaw clicks shut. Troy falls silent, too. 

“Oh no!” Annie gasps, color draining from her flushed cheeks. “Nadir’s gambit...”

Abed lays his palms open. “Nadir’s gambit.”

A prophecy fulfilled. Troy looks proud.

Britta smacks the table again. “This ain’t over ‘til the third layer of gambit is revealed.”

They hmm and they murmur and they comb their brains, but they can’t find an angle that supported a third gambit having been in play. They agree on a truce, then. One that will last until the new gambit is born.

“We may have use for you two tomorrow night,” Abed muses.

“Is this a”—

“No, Troy, this is not a sex thing. In the heat of our kiss, I managed to write the season finale of _Diving with Dinosaurs.”_ He shows Troy his opened notebook, then addresses Britta and Annie. “Denise Richards declined to work with me this time but sent me a gift basket of breakfast cereals. I’m still looking to fill the roles of two Denise Richards playing two grizzled Navy veterans.”

Annie squeals. “Are you inviting us two bad actors to guest star in your second-most popular Cool Abed Films TV show?”

“Indeed. Britta could also consult on any boating material.”

Britta folds her arms, unfolds, re-folds. “Fuck it. Okay. I’ll skip my succulent management class.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: just saw the valentines day episode where abed wears a purple cardigan to the dance. i knew this day would come. truth is... it’s annie’s cardigan


End file.
